Words With GirlFriends
by BrioScotty
Summary: Despite having an awesome vocabulary, Rachel sucks at Words With Friends. Full prompt in the fic.


**PROMPT:** For all of Rachel's extensive vocabulary and her tendency of being increasingly verbose, she kinda sucks at 'Words With Friends'. She can't make up words and is actually a really bad speller. Quinn, on the other hand, easily comes up with words out of the random jumble of letters given. Leads to a frustrated Rachel who then starts reading the dictionary and thesaurus.

**xxxxx**

Quinn feels her eyelids begin to droop as her 'Easy Listening' playlist lulls her to sleep, her subconscious wandering off into dreams of a bacon chorus line and Rachel. Rachel and bacon. Quinn smiles in her sleep but startles as an alert cuts across the end of the Motown track she's listening to. Groaning, she cracks one eye open and squints.

**Words Free****  
><strong>**Your Move with RACHEL*BERRY**

The blonde sighs and taps the screen to bring up the game she had started, at Rachel's behest, while they were sitting on Quinn's couch watching Grey's Anatomy three hours earlier.

_"Please, Quinn," Rachel pouts. "The only game I have in progress is with Finn and his vocabulary barely exceeds the level of a first grader. I'm not finding him intellectually stimulating at all. It's been thirteen days since he played a word."___

_Quinn concedes after giving Rachel a smirk, surrendering her username. She turns her attention back to the television, sliding her arm around the shorter girl's waist. After five minutes, Rachel is still frowning heavily at her iPhone, finger curling around a loose strand of hair.___

_"Rachel."_

"_Hmm," Rachel hums.___

_"What are you doing?"___

_"Thinking," the brunette replies. "My letters aren't being very cooperative."___

_"Shake it," Quinn suggests, smirking again when Rachel turns to her with a bemused expression on her face.___

_"Excuse me?"___

_Quinn sighs and takes the phone from Rachel's hand to give it a quick shake. "See? The letters rearrange when you shake it."___

_"Oh," Rachel grins at her girlfriend. "I didn't know! The lack of rules that come with this application is quite infuriating."___

_"How long have you had this game? It's not exactly rocket science, Rach," Quinn asks, raising an eyebrow. Rachel snatches the phone back and continues to frown at her letters while Quinn rolls her eyes and tries to focus on her favourite television programme._

Quinn is still staring blearily at her phone when it beeps again, the green speech bubble indicating that Rachel has sent her a message. Rubbing her eyes with one hand, she taps the screen to bring up her conversation with Rachel.

_**Still awake? :D xx**_

A smile works its way across Quinn's lips and she punches in a quick reply.

_**No ;) xx**_

She switches back to view the board and to see what Rachel has chosen as her second word of the game. CAT. Excellent. Quinn scrambles her letters twice before placing her tiles. GARDEN. The green speech bubble pops up again.

_**See you in the morning? Xx**_

Quinn feels a tiny flutter in her stomach, something that happens increasingly more and more often when she thinks of the brunette, especially since they've become 'official'.

_**I'll pick you up at 8. Sweet dreams xx**_

After five minutes, it becomes apparent that Rachel hasn't come up with any new words. Quinn turns off the notifications, restarts her playlist and falls asleep instantly, the smile still etched on her face.

**xxxxx**

Rachel is sitting on the steps outside her house when Quinn pulls up at the kerb the following morning. Usually, Rachel waits at the end of the driveway but today she's studying the screen of her phone intently; so intently that she fails to hear Quinn's car approach and consequently jumps a foot in the air when the blonde presses the horn. Scowling, Rachel grabs her backpack and makes her way to the car, closing the door with more force than necessary once she's in the passenger seat.

"Good morning to you too," Quinn chuckles.

"You scared me," Rachel mutters, fastening her seatbelt and turning to face her girlfriend. "Good morning."

"Sleep well?" Quinn asks, leaning across to peck Rachel on the cheek, lingering to press her lips against the brunette's.

"Very. And you? Did I wake you up last night? I spent far too much time thinking of a word and didn't realise how late it was."

"You woke me up," Quinn nods. "But it's okay. I can think of worse things to wake up to. Why does it take you so long?"

"Why does it take me so long to do what?" Rachel asks, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"To think of words," Quinn gestures to the phone in Rachel's lap. "I mean, I know you take immense pride in your vocabulary, Rachel. Sometimes I don't actually understand some of the words that come out of your mouth…"

"You're more like Finn than I realised…"

"I said I don't understand _some_, not that I don't understand _any_," Quinn says witheringly, turning out of Rachel's street and heading towards McKinley High. "Anyway, it's just a game. You beat me at everything else."

"Monopoly," Rachel nods.

"Yes…"

"And Operation," Rachel adds.

"Yes…"

"The Game of Life, Trivial Pursuit, Wii Tennis…"

"That was **one** time!"

"Wii Bowling, Wii Baseball…"

"It's pretty much impossible…" Quinn protests.

"Clue!"

"Okay, Rach, I get it," Quinn says, her voice rising above the brunette's. "So I, for one, am completely overjoyed by your total inability to create words out of seven randomly generated letters."

"It's not a 'total inability'," Rachel protests. "Most of my letters are vowels and I don't know many words with four A's in them…ooh, banana!"

"Three A's," Quinn corrects, immediately wishing she hadn't. Rachel's face falls into a pout. "Rachel, there needs to be some balance. You're a better singer, I'm a better dancer, you're great in Math, I rule at Spanish. And science. And history." She grins when Rachel mutters something about Mr Schue's ridiculous teaching methodology. "He's a good teacher. It's not his fault you're obsessed with the idea that he's trying to ruin your life."

"He is!" Rachel cries. "After countless experiments and speaking to former students, who, like me, possessed and displayed phenomenal amounts of talent, I have reached the conclusion that he actually _is_ trying to ruin my life."

"Maybe you need a tutor," Quinn says, biting down on her lip when she hears Rachel huff. "I'm perfectly willing to offer my services." She sneaks a glance at the shorter girl, whose cheeks have turned an interesting shade of pink.

"Stop distracting me from being annoyed with you, Quinn," she says. "And stop being… lascivious."

"I was merely trying to be a helpful girlfriend," Quinn smirks. "It's not my fault you decided to interpret my words that way. And you just demonstrated why I don't get that you suck at this game. You sound like you've swallowed a thesaurus."

Rachel considers this in silence for the rest of their journey to school and makes for a quick exit as soon as Quinn pulls into the parking space reserved for the head cheerleader. Quinn grabs Rachel's hand and pulls her back into the car.

"See you in Spanish?" Quinn asks, brushing a strand of hair from the brunette's face.

"Sí," Rachel replies with a grin and bounces from the car, tearing off across the tarmac towards the school. Quinn stares after her, slightly mesmerised by the shortness of her girlfriend's skirt before shaking her head and collecting her bag from the backseat of her car.

**xxxxx**

Quinn is drumming her fingertips lightly against the side of her desk when Rachel bustles into the room just before the bell sounds and frowns as she watches the brunette's progress down the aisle towards her. The shorter girl appears to be struggling under the weight of her bag.

"Hey," Quinn whispers as Mr Schue walks into the room.

"Hi," Rachel gives her a quick smile before leaning down and trying to extract her Spanish books from her bag.

"Why are you carrying so much stuff?" the blonde asks, leaning across to try and see what's inside the overstuffed bag. "You can put things in my locker, you know? If yours doesn't have enough room." Rachel busies herself with noting down what Mr Schue is writing on the board at the front of the room. "What's in there?" Quinn tries to look again, using her height advantage to peek over Rachel's shoulder.

"Nothing!" Rachel squeaks, pushing her bag out of Quinn's line of sight and practically falling off her chair.

"Quinn? Rachel?" Mr Schue calls from the front of the room. "Is there a problem?"

"No, Mr Schuester," Rachel says brightly, glancing at Quinn who sinks back into her seat and picks up her pen.

"Nada, Mr Schue," she affirms and starts copying down what Rachel's already started writing. At the end of the period, Rachel presses a kiss to Quinn's cheek causing the blonde to growl when she hears a gagging sound from the back of the room. Rachel runs off to her next class and Quinn turns to face her best friend.

"Funny," Quinn says with a roll of her eyes.

"Like you haven't done exactly the same whenever you caught me and B…"

"I've caught you and Brittany doing a lot worse," Quinn interrupts. "She's my girlfriend. You could try being nice." Santana sighs. "Britt, you like Rachel, right?"

"She made me cookies shaped like ducks," the taller of the blonde Cheerios says with a smile. "They didn't quack."

"Duck-shaped cookies," Quinn says triumphantly. "How can someone who bakes duck-shaped cookies possibly be a bad person?"

Santana appears to consider this for a few seconds before making an exasperated face.

"You used to find her annoying!"

"True," Quinn concedes. "But in spite of that, she's pretty awesome when you get to know her. So try? For me?"

"I'll think about it," the Latina says. Quinn's phone buzzes and she unlocks the screen to find a new notification.

**Words Free****  
><strong>**Your Move with RACHEL*BERRY**

'At last,' Quinn thinks to herself as she opens up the board to find Rachel's fourth word: STAR. Quinn chuckles to herself and quickly adds her next word: VIADUCT.

"Rachel Berry sexts?" Santana muses, swiping at Quinn's hand to grab her phone. "Oh. You're playing Scrabble." She makes a half-relieved, half-disgusted face and passes the phone back.

"It's not Scabble," Quinn says quickly. "It's Words With Friends. Rachel kinda sucks at it though. It'll probably take us until graduation to finish this game."

"I'll play against Rachel," Brittany chimes in. The trio has started walking towards the gymnasium for an 'emergency' Cheerios practice. Quinn gladly hands over Rachel's username and is in the middle of explaining that a thesaurus isn't a type of dinosaur when Coach Sylvester and her bullhorn make their appearance.

**xxxxx**

On her way to the cafeteria at lunchtime, Quinn stops by her locker to offload some of her books and spots Rachel stooped over her bag, hurriedly stacking a pile of oversized books into her own locker. Quinn quirks her eyebrow and shuts her locker, sauntering towards her girlfriend.

"Hey, Rach," she says, leaning against the cool metal. Rachel jumps as she straightens up to place the final book in her locker and hits her head.

"Ow!" the brunette gasps, rubbing the top of her head and glaring at Quinn. "Why did you sneak up on me?"

"I wasn't sneaking," Quinn says, reaching out to touch Rachel's head. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine," Rachel says quickly, slamming her locker shut before Quinn can see what's inside. "Are you eating in the cafeteria today or can I tempt you to go outside?"

Quinn eyes the brown bag in Rachel's hand warily, remembering some of the previous lunches the brunette has concocted. Before Quinn can make her excuses and make a swift exit to the cafeteria, Rachel opens the bag and fishes something out.

"It's a ham sandwich," Rachel says, making a face. "Mayo, lettuce, tomato and that relish you like."

Quinn grins and reaches for the sandwich.

"Thanks!"

They find an unoccupied bench and sit facing one another.

"How was practice?" Rachel asks, unwrapping her own lunch as Quinn peels the foil from her sandwich. "You don't look as exhausted as you usually do when Coach Sylvester calls these 'emergency' practices. I still don't think that it's beneficial to your studies…"

"I already have the notes from Artie," Quinn interjects. "My studies are fine. You know that. We do homework together most nights of the week."

Rachel gives her an unimpressed look and Quinn reaches into her bag, pulling out an apple and passing it across the table.

"Mr Schuester never calls Glee club rehearsals during…" Rachel begins.

"Glee club hasn't won five consecutive national championships…" Quinn argues, a grin on her face as Rachel's eyes darken significantly.

"Glee club is being run into the ground by a curly-haired, 80's-rapping moron who wouldn't know an eclectic repertoire if it bit him in the a-"

"Hey guys!" Brittany drops down next to Quinn leaving the space next to Rachel vacant. "Santana, sit down."

Rachel visibly flinches as the other brunette lowers herself onto the bench.

"Jeez, Berry, I'm not going to hurt you," Santana practically sneers before picking up the apple and raising it to her lips.

"S, that's not yours," Quinn says, staring pointedly at her best friend. "And her name is Rachel. Not Berry."

"Fine," Santana says, placing the apple down. "Sorry, _Rachel_."

"It's okay," Rachel says, keeping her eyes on her half-eaten lunch. "You can have the apple."

"Rachel, Quinn says we can play Scrabble together," Brittany chirps, passing her bag of chips around.

"Words With Friends!" Quinn and Rachel repeat automatically. "That would be great, Brittany," Rachel adds, declining the chips Santana is waving in her face.

"Quinn says you need some help," Brittany smiles. "I've only ever lost one game and that was to Finn."

"Quinn said what?" Rachel says, glancing between the blonde cheerleaders, a blush rising up over her cheeks. "Quinn, did you tell them that I need help with this game?"

"No… Rachel, listen…" Quinn says helplessly as Rachel throws her lunch back into the paper bag.

"She said you sucked," Santana drawls, picking up the apple again as Rachel gets to her feet and storms away from the table. Quinn turns her attention to Santana and shakes her head as she gets up from the table, leaving her sandwich behind.

"You should be nice to Quinn," Brittany says. "You're her best friend. Best friends don't hurt their best friends' girlfriends."

"Whatever," Santana says, rolling her eyes, watching Quinn jog back towards the building where Rachel has disappeared inside. She takes a bite of the apple and makes a face. "Sour."

**xxxxx**

Already tired from the workout before lunch, Quinn has a hard time catching up with Rachel. She finds the brunette quickly rummaging through her locker and steels herself before walking up and putting a hand on her girlfriend's shoulder.

"I didn't mean it," Quinn says softly.

"Then why did you say it?" Rachel asks, glancing away from her locker. "Okay, so I find this stupid game difficult. Did you have to broadcast it to _Santana_ of all people? You must have realised that she'd use it to torment me."

"I'm working on Santana. She doesn't hate you; this is just the way she is…"

"I have to go," Rachel says, retrieving a folder of sheet music and closing her locker door.

"Can I give you a ride home after school?" Quinn asks a little desperately as she watches Rachel turn away.

"I don't know, Quinn. I don't know," Rachel sighs as she turns and walks away leaving Quinn leaning against the lockers.

**xxxxx**

Rachel's silence lasts the rest of the day. Quinn waits outside Rachel's last class but the brunette breezes past with Kurt and Mercedes without a glance at the blonde. She follows them to Glee, grabbing Rachel's hand as they near the door. Rachel whirls around and pulls her hand away, shaking her head.

"Rachel, please…"

The brunette flounces into the room and sits between Puck and Kurt, ignoring the two empty seats in the front row where she and Quinn usually sit. Everyone glances between the pair but no-one speaks up. Mr Schue arrives with an armful of sheet music and rambles on about their impending Regionals setlist.

"… which is why we'll have Tina sing the solo."

Everyone waits for Rachel to protest but the brunette appears not to be listening to a word Mr Schue is saying. Her gaze is trained firmly on the back of Quinn's head.

"Puck and Mercedes, you'll be singing a duet…"

Still the other members of the Glee club, except Quinn, stare openly at Rachel, waiting for her to comment, to protest, to faint with indignation but she only continues staring, her gaze boring into Quinn's skull.

"And our group number will feature a badass rap by Artie," Mr Schue finishes.

This appears to shake Rachel from her reverie, eyes snapping up to meet Mr Schuester's.

"What?" she exclaims.

"Artie will be rapping in our group number," Mr Schue continues to grin inanely, unaware of the amount of distress this is causing the petite brunette.

"We might as well not bother showing up then! Do I need to remind you that the six show choirs that even _attempted_ a rap number at a Regionals competition crashed and burned out of existence?"

"Well, this year it's time to change their minds!"

"Mr Schue…"

"Rachel, I don't want to hear it," he says, more harshly than he intends to. Quinn's eyes narrow as the others gasp and glance at each other. Rachel feels her bottom lip begin to tremble and she hops up from her seat, rushing out of the room and heading down the hall to the bathroom. She locks herself inside one of the stalls and leans against the wall.

Ten seconds later, the door opens and there's a gentle knock on the stall door.

"Rach?"

Rachel opens her mouth in a silent groan.

"I'm still not talking to you," she says, brushing away two tears that are streaking down her cheeks.

"Open the door please?"

Rachel sniffs before fumbling with the lock and pulling the door open. Quinn gives her a smile before reaching forward to hug her girlfriend.

"I'm still mad at you," Rachel mumbles against the fabric of Quinn's top.

"That's okay," Quinn says, stroking Rachel's back soothingly. "I'm going to think of a way to make it up to you."

"Through song?" Rachel asks, pulling back to look up at Quinn, a hopeful expression on her face.

"That's really more your style, Rachel," Quinn muses, pressing a quick kiss to Rachel's temple. "I don't like it when you're mad at me."

"And I don't like being mad," Rachel says, snuggling her head against Quinn's neck. Quinn feels Rachel's mouth brush against her skin, goosebumps erupting all over her body. Lips, teeth then tongue all graze against the pale flesh until Quinn lets out a frustrated moan.

"We have to get back to Glee," Quinn sounds disgusted with herself for saying the words out loud.

"Can't we just go to your house?" Rachel murmurs, her lips now moving along Quinn's jaw line.

"As tempting as that sounds," Quinn's voice sounds strangled as a rush of hormones floods her body. She clears her throat. "As tempting as that sounds, we should really go back to Glee. And you're mad at me, remember?"

"Yes. Mad. Very mad," Rachel says, pushing Quinn's arms away and taking a few steps backwards. "I'd probably forgive you if we went to your house…"

Quinn needs no further encouragement and takes Rachel's hand, dragging her out of the bathroom and into the hallway. Rachel stops at her locker to retrieve a few books, forgetting what she'd been hiding from Quinn all day.

"Rachel? Are those dictionaries? And a thesaurus?" Quinn asks, her eyebrows raised as she peers into Rachel's locker.

"No!" Rachel tries to close her locker but Quinn reaches to stop the door from swinging shut.

"That's what you had in your bag earlier?" Quinn bites down on her bottom lip to stop the giggle bubbling up inside her. Rachel's eyes narrow and Quinn takes a step back. "Rachel…"

Rachel hoists her bag onto her back and spins on her heel, walking quickly away from the blonde.

"I wasn't laughing!"

"You were going to!" Rachel calls over her shoulder as she walks towards the exit. Quinn stares after her retreating girlfriend before sighing and closing her eyes.

"Where'd Berry go?"

"S, don't start," Quinn rounds on her best friend, pushing past the brunette to get to her own locker.

"Where'd Rachel go?" Santana tries again, voice softer this time.

"Why do you care?"

"I care because when you're all sad, Brittany's sad and when Brittany's sad, I get substantially less sweet lady kisses," Santana shrugs. "Plus, I want to try."

"Try?"

"Being Rachel's friend," Santana says the words as though they're causing her pain. "If being friends with her means I get to see more of you, then I will try."

"It's a start," Quinn says, smiling at the other girl.

"Are you coming back to Glee? Schuester sent me to find you two."

"No, I need to go fix this," Quinn says. "Thanks Santana."

After a moment of hesitation, Santana gives Quinn a brief hug before turning away and walking quickly back to Glee. Wearily, Quinn gets her books from her locker and drives home, following the route Rachel used to walk but there's no sign of the brunette. She even slows down as she passes Rachel's house, looking for any sign of her girlfriend inside.

At her own house, the driveway is empty and her mom has left a note on the kitchen counter informing Quinn that there's lasagne in the fridge and that she'll be home around ten. Or later. Quinn makes a face before balling up the note and tossing it in the trash. 'Later' means she's on a date, some guy that she's met at single's yoga or single's racquetball or single's vegan cookery. The list of 'Single's' groups that Judy has attempted since the divorce is quite impressive. The men who want to date her? Less so.

Ignoring the lasagne, Quinn goes to her room and immediately changes out of her cheerleading uniform into something less restrictive and lies down on her bed. On a normal evening, Rachel would have already called to ask Quinn over to help her with homework or to watch a movie or to run song suggestions by her. Or just to talk.

As fights go, this is their most ridiculous to date. A stupid iPhone game. Quinn unlocks her screen and opens up the application, resigning from the game that Rachel had started the night before. She opens a new game and smirks at her letters, tapping quickly to place the tiles.

**xxxxx**

Rachel has been staring at her phone since arriving home from school, lying flat out on her bed. The urge to dial Quinn's number or send a message or take a stupid photo and email it is strong, though it isn't as strong as the feeling deep down inside that she's right to be annoyed. Isn't she? Rachel frowns at her reflection in the screen of her phone. It _is_ just a game. Maybe she's being ridiculous about the situation.

She almost drops the phone when a notification causes the screen to light up.

**Words Free****  
><strong>**Your Move with QuinnFabray**

Rachel rolls her eyes and opens up the game, grinning at the word Quinn has played. SORRY. She shuffles her letters and concentrates on making them into a combination of words, trying to make her high-scoring letters land on the green and blue squares. Her smile widens when she finds a word to place. SUAVE.

Quinn's response is immediate. LOVE.

Rachel blushes and rolls onto her stomach, burying her head into her pillows.

LOSER.

A giggle escapes from the brunette's mouth as she presses 'play'. "Triple word," she whispers to herself.

YOURS.

The game continues quickly, the board filling up and Rachel pulls ahead, much to the brunette's delight. She's trying to figure out where to put her next word when she realises what Quinn's last three words are.

LOOK OUT WINDOW

Rachel tosses her phone onto her bed and practically trips in her haste to get to the window. She tears open the curtains and glances down at the garden, frowning when she doesn't see Quinn's car outside.

"Made you look," a soft voice says from the doorway. Rachel whirls around and smiles, biting down on her bottom lip. "I was outside. Then your dad came home and told me that I look a little pathetic sitting out on the grass." Rachel remains silent. "Am I forgiven?"

Rachel says nothing but walks forward to retrieve her phone. She opens up the game once more and finishes placing her tiles. Moments later, Quinn's phone vibrates. She checks the screen and chuckles.

YES


End file.
